Help Me Hold Onto You
by ausllydawmoon
Summary: Or where an unsub leaks some security footage and Spencer's secret is out. Jeid. One-shot.


He shoots a split second too late, and he realizes it before he even pulls the trigger. The bomber standing before him manages to detonate the explosive, and Spencer has just enough time to yell "Evacuate!" into his radio and run up the stairs out of the basement before the bomb goes off. He's thrown forward and onto the ground, where his head slams against the concrete floor of the warehouse and he blacks out.

When he comes to, he's in a hospital bed with a pounding headache and ringing ears. He sits up a little and looks around until his eyes fall on J.J., who rushes to his side.

"You're awake," she breathes, leaning over the bed to hug him.

"How long was I out?" he asks her, hugging her back.

"A couple of hours. We heard your warning and ran, and when the bomb went off I—" She cuts herself off and pulls away to look at him. "We have _got _to stop splitting up, Spence. And _you _need to stop scaring me like this."

"I'm sorry," he tells her. "What happened to Erikson?" he asks of their bomber's partner, who was upstairs at the time the bomb went off.

J.J. hesitates. "No one saw him leave the building. He's presumed dead."

Spencer watches his friend, the way her eyes go out of focus for a split second. Despite the pounding in his head, he studies her. "But you think he got away," he says.

She looks at him and nods. "The case is closed now, though. There's nothing we can do. But you don't need to worry about that right now. You need to rest."

"If he's on the loose, we need to—"

"Spencer, _rest_."

He sighs and rests his head back on the pillow. "There has to be something we can do."

She shrugs helplessly. "There isn't. We're going home as soon as you're released."

Spencer frowns, and J.J. settles back into the chair next to his bed.

"You don't have to stay," he tells her, turning his head to look at her and then immediately regretting it when the throbbing in his head intensifies.

"I know," she replies. "I'm not ready to let you out of my sight just yet." She smiles softly at him. "You really had me worried there, Spence. If I lost you…I don't know what I would do."

* * *

"Alright, crime fighters, we've got a grisly one today, so fasten your seatbelts," Garcia says as she stands in front of the screen to present their next case. She presses the remote, and the mutilated bodies of three victims appear on the screen. "That was a pun, you see, because—"

"They were mauled by bears?" Spencer says, reading the file.

"Why'd they call us?" Rossi asks.

"This is where it gets weird," Garcia says. "All three of them were found naked, but with a whole crapton of meat residue on their skin—er, what was left of their skin." She presses the remote again, but this time nothing happens.

She hits it a few more times, and then she grumbles and presses the button yet again. Just then, the screen flickers, and Spencer's heart drops straight into his stomach.

The picture changes, all right, but what appears has absolutely nothing to do with the case.

It's a photo from three years, four months, and twenty-seven days ago, on one of the rare nights the team celebrated something in the office. It was Garcia's birthday, and they all surprised her after she had to cancel her real party because of a case. But this was one of the rare times they _all _got drunk, and he had wandered off into Garcia's little computer den to sober up. J.J. had come looking for him a few minutes later, and, well…then this picture happened. He had completely forgotten about it until now.

He walks out of the room before anyone can react, but he hears Garcia ask how many people have made out in her home away from home before the door shuts behind him. As if it wasn't bad enough, every computer screen around him has that photo plastered on it. Just then, his phone rings. He tries to ignore the picture of them now on this screen as well as he answers the phone.

"This is Dr. Spencer Reid," he says.

"Yours is the kiss of death. You did this, Doctor," comes a garbled voice from the other line. Then whoever it is promptly hangs up. When Spencer looks at his phone in confusion, that picture is still there, taunting him.

He tries to take a deep breath to calm down, but he feels that photo slowly wrapping itself around him and smothering him.

He leaves his phone on his desk, walks down a hallway, and manages to find a mostly-empty supply closet, free from any screens and hopefully where no one will find him. He can already hear their laughter and incessant teasing in his mind as he turns on the light and shuts the door behind him. He sits on the ground against the back wall of the closet and pulls his knees up to his chest, closing his eyes.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_, he tells himself, resting his forehead on his knees.

He hears the door open and close, but he doesn't lift his head. He doesn't have to see who it is. He feels her arm bump his as she settles beside him, but she doesn't say anything. He finally lifts his head and crosses his legs, staring at his hands in his lap.

"How did you find me," he says. More of a statement expressing his frustration that she knows him too well than a question, but she answers anyway.

"Figured you'd wanna get away, and I knew the bathroom would be too easy."

"Do we know what happened?"

"Garcia's on it now. Someone hacked us, but we don't know who yet. Whoever it is, he's good."

"He's patient and determined and he's attacking me personally."

"Elaborate?"

"He went through three years, four months, and twenty-seven days of security footage, Jennifer. He hacked the FBI just to display _that _picture for everyone to see. And he called me."

"What?"

"'_You did this, Doctor.' _That's what he said. He's targeting me."

He feels her eyes on him, but he can't bring himself to look at her. They never spoke of the kiss after it happened, and it's been sort of a silent agreement between them to just pretend it didn't happen. But they can't really do that anymore.

"Who would wanna target you?"

"I don't know," he says in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning his head back against the wall.

"Spence, we're gonna figure this out," she says, resting a hand on his arm. "We always do."

He sighs and shrugs her hand off his arm wordlessly. But she doesn't leave, and he doesn't want her to. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, and he feels her eyes on him.

"Stop looking at me like that," he says quietly.

"Like what?"

"Like you're afraid I'm gonna break into a million pieces at any moment."

"I know you're not gonna break into a million pieces," J.J. tells him. "You are the strongest person I know."

"I feel like there's a 'but' in there."

She laughs a little. "_But_…I will never _not _worry about you. It comes with caring about someone, you worry about them."

He sighs again and finally meets her eyes. She gives him a small smile.

"There he is," she says softly.

"Thank you for not hating me after I did that," he whispers.

"Spence, I could never hate you."

* * *

Garcia doesn't find out who hacked them, but she reinforces the security on their network. A week goes by, and he's almost willing to let it go as some sort of prank. The team doesn't even talk about it, so he sure as hell isn't about to bring it up again.

That is, until Garcia's remote stops working again and he gets a sickening sense of déjà vu when he sees what appears on the screen this time.

It isn't just the picture. No, now, it's the entire video. He watches J.J. enter the room he was alone in, watches himself turn around to face her. The details of that night are still fuzzy, and it's like he's watching it from two different angles as his memories play in his mind in sync with the security footage on the screen.

She says something to him in the video, and he vaguely remembers hearing that tone she gets whenever she's teasing him. He would never admit it, but he loves when her voice gets like that, because it means she's talking to _him_, and she knows him so well that she can tease him endearingly without crossing any lines like the others tend to do sometimes.

On screen, he watches himself laugh a little, and then she laughs too, and she touches his arm. And that's when he kisses her.

Granted, she grabs his face and combs her fingers through his hair and does all the things someone who's _enjoying _kissing someone else would do, but he can't help the surge of guilt that makes him feel sick to his stomach. He swallows and turns away from the screen, unable to watch any more of it.

And then his phone rings, and he answers it. He doesn't even have time to say anything before the same garbled voice as before comes from the other end.

"Yours is the kiss of death. You did this, Doctor."

"Son of a—" Spencer starts to mutter, but the line goes dead.

In a burst of blind rage, he stands from his chair and throws his phone against the wall, where it breaks and falls on the floor. He doesn't even register the startled gasps of the rest of the team until after he's already stormed out of the room.

This time, he doesn't hide in the closet. Not because he doesn't want to, but because J.J. rushes after him immediately and stops him before he can.

"Spence—" She tries to rest a hand on his arm, but he shrugs her off again.

"Don't 'Spence' me, Jennifer."

"Garcia's upset too."

"I'll make sure to send her a fruit basket to apologize for ruining the sanctity of her computer room."

"Not because of that. Because her upped security got hacked again. I'd say she's even more determined than you to figure out what the hell is going on."

"Doubt it."

He honestly doesn't know how she's being so gentle and patient with him when he knows he's acting like a kid throwing a temper tantrum, but he appreciates it. And her.

"They're targeting me too, Spence."

"Did they call you? Because they called me. Again. And said the same thing as last time."

"Which was what?"

"'Yours is the kiss of death. You did this, Doctor.'"

"Okay, well, we're profilers. We can use that to figure out who's doing this and stop them."

He runs a hand through his hair and looks around at the video still playing on a loop on all the computer screens in the room.

"But if you let them get to you, they win," she adds, resting a hand on his arm again. This time, he doesn't shrug her off. Instead, he lets her pull him into a hug. He squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. He isn't quite sure if she heard him, but her arms tighten around him.

* * *

Over the next week, they discover a few things. First, their hacker is none other than Mike Erikson, the partner of the bomber that was never found. Second, he's targeting Reid because he was the last person with Erikson's partner before he blew himself up, so Erikson blames Reid for his death. And third, Erikson is good at computers. Possibly even better than Garcia, although no one has the guts to bring up that theory in her presence.

It's been exactly a week since the last attack, and Spencer bounces his leg nervously in his chair as he talks to Garcia at his desk.

"And so then, Sergio—Spence, are you listening to me?"

"Have you seen J.J. today?" he asks her, scanning the room for his partner in crime-fighting.

"No, I just figured she's running late. Why, are you finally asking her out?"

He chooses to ignore that question and stands up. "'Yours is the kiss of death.' I'm worried he means that literally."

Right as he's about to call J.J. on his new phone, he gets a call from her. He sighs in relief and answers it.

"Hey, I was just about to call you," he tells her.

"Your…Yours is the kiss of death," comes her shaky voice from the other end.

"No," he whispers, his heart dropping into his stomach.

"You did this, Doctor." There's a pause, and then she speaks urgently. "Spence, it's a tr—" Her voice cuts off as the line goes dead.

The phone slips out of his hand and his legs give out under him, and he falls back heavily into his chair, his vision going out of focus and his mind going numb.

"What was that?" Garcia asks. "Spencer, answer me! Was that J.J.? Is she okay?"

"He has her," he hears himself say, though he can't feel his mouth moving. "Erikson has J.J."

The next few hours pass like a dream. He sees himself go through the motions through someone else's eyes. He can't feel anything, can't hear anything, can't _think _anything, yet somehow he answers questions when asked and manages to function well enough to not get sent home. Yet.

"I know why he took her," he says in response to a question Emily asked him. "We know he blames me for his partner's death because I was the only one down there with him when he set off the bomb. I took his partner, so he took mine."

As if on cue, his phone rings again with an unknown caller ID. He swallows and puts it on speaker, while Garcia starts trying to track the call.

"Erikson, it's not my fault your partner killed himself. And Agent Jareau has nothing to do with this," he says into the phone. "Let her go, and I'll come take her place."

"We both know that's not how this works," Erikson replies, clearly done with the voice modulator.

"What do you want?" Spencer asks him.

"To make you feel how I feel."

He clenches his jaw. "If you hurt her, I swear to God—"

"Goodbye, Dr. Reid."

The line goes dead, and Garcia curses. "I couldn't track it," she says worriedly. "Is he gonna hurt J.J.?"

"J.J. is strong, and smart. She'll find a way to stall him until we can get to her," Rossi points out.

"Even if we do find her, it's a trap," Spencer says distractedly. "J.J. started telling me that on the phone. If she dies, it's my fault."

"Then we need to get to her before that happens," Emily says.

He vaguely registers Emily giving everyone else orders, and they clear out of the room until it's just the two of them.

"Spence, I want you to go home."

"You know I can't do that."

"You're no help to anyone like this."

"I'm also no help to anyone if I'm at home doing nothing."

"Look, I know how much you care about her—"

"Then you know I can't rest until we get her back."

Emily takes a deep breath. "Alright. Then I want you in there with Garcia, looking into both Erikson's and his partner Jones's backgrounds to try to figure out where Erikson might've taken J.J."

"Thank you." Spencer stands up, and Emily catches his arm.

"We _will _find her. Alive. And we will bring her home safe."

* * *

They don't let him go for the takedown. Emily makes him stay at the BAU, as if that's somehow better for him than actively going to get J.J. back. He paces the length of the office over and over again, running his fingers through his hair and pulling on it angrily. He checks his phone for the millionth time to see if he has any missed calls from anyone on the team, but he doesn't.

Not even chess can calm him down. He does everything he can, but his heartbeat is still way faster than it should be. He tries not to think about the possibility or probability that something will go wrong. If he lost J.J.—or any of them, really—he knows it would send him over the edge.

He spends most of the time beating himself up over everything that's happened. If he hadn't kissed her that stupid night three years ago, this wouldn't have happened. Surely, Erikson probably would've taken someone else, but at least it wouldn't have been J.J.

Someone should have called by now. He knows it. Why hasn't anyone called? He keeps pacing, clutching his phone in his hand like a lifeline.

Finally, after being stuck powerless for two hours, twelve minutes, and forty-three seconds, his phone rings. He fumbles to answer it.

"Hello?" he asks breathlessly.

"We got him," Emily says on the other side, sounding tired but relieved. "J.J. too. He beat her up a little, but we got to her before he could do his worst. She'll be okay."

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of relief. "Can I talk to her?"

"Oh…she's resting right now, Spence. She's been through a lot. But we'll be back at the BAU in twenty, okay?"

He swallows. "Okay. I still don't forgive you for making me stay behind. I hope you know that."

Emily exhales. "I know, and I'm sorry."

"Bye, Emily."

He hangs up and practically collapses into his chair, all the built-up fear and worry and anger and guilt finally releasing in the tears that start rolling down his face. He lets himself cry for a while before wiping his eyes and going into the bathroom to clean up his face.

When he walks out, the team is there. He freezes, dead in his tracks, scanning each person until his eyes land on her. Then they rush toward each other and he hugs her so tightly she almost falls over. But she doesn't seem to mind.

"I'm so sorry," he says, burying his face in her shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Shh, Spence, it's okay," she says softly, exhaustedly, as she combs her fingers through his hair.

When he pulls away to examine her for wounds, he sees that the rest of the team has busied themselves with tidying up the round table, leaving them alone in the bull pen.

"I'm okay," she says, resting her hands on his arms.

"Emily said he beat you—"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," she promises.

He takes a deep breath. "J.J.—"

"I know."

He swallows. "You—you do?"

She gives him a small smile and nods before standing on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

"I don't know what I would've done if I lost you," he tells her. "Knowing it was because of me…"

"Spence, it wasn't your fault," she says, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. "And you are never gonna lose me, okay? Just like I am never gonna lose you."

He smiles a little at that. "Okay." And then, even though she already knows, he says it to her for the first time. "I love you."

This time, professionalism be damned, she presses a soft kiss to his lips that still leaves his mind buzzing when she pulls away to look at him. "I love you, too."

* * *

**listen i just want them together who needs a good plot (and NO i am NOT done writing ****auslly)**


End file.
